


I have just said something ridiculous to you (and in response, your glorious laughter).

by anxiouspunk



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, but it’s pretty much just for the jokes, hella light, i love that shit, it's the usual Softness, like diet light, plus some talk about toys and whatnot so everyone just take the Proper Precautions, some starts hallow and chilton characters mentioned in passing, the answer is never, title from mary oliver’s poem ‘I have just said’, will I ever write a scene that doesn’t have rory cutting paris off with a kiss?, with one brief brush of angst like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24799126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouspunk/pseuds/anxiouspunk
Summary: paris pretends to fear nothing but if there’s anything that makes her anxious, it’s being gossiped about. however there was nothing to fear this time; the remarks were positive, how well they fit together, and paris will never forget when lorelai says to luke,"here's the deal – it’s like, paris only speaks this very specific dialect that’s not even spoken in the most remote of places; no one can ever really get what exactly the kid is on about. but rory is somehow the only person out of seven billion people in the whole world, who understands it."paris never told rory about that. but when rory makes the joke one more time, peering over her the edge of her laptop as she sits on the bed while paris stands before it and they’re winding down for the night, a harmless smile and 'I have not the pleasure of understanding you,' paris defies it.“no.” she says, trying to speak through the sudden lump in her throat “I think you’re the only person who understands.”
Relationships: Paris Geller/Rory Gilmore
Comments: 32
Kudos: 209





	I have just said something ridiculous to you (and in response, your glorious laughter).

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, finally, FINALLY got something finished for gellmore! I've been working on stuff guys, promise, and did all through the quarantined month of April, but then I was suddenly brought back to work in May and went from two days, to four days, to switching up schedules bc we're short-staffed, so you know how it is. But here we are!
> 
> As per usual, I saw this quote from a poem, this time mary oliver who's pieces are great, and all I could think about was gellmore when I read it, bc I feel like Paris just says whatever bizarre string of words she's feeling and then Rory is either totally thrown or amused or both. Plus, I love a dynamic that's like, Character A Is A Weird Alien Person Who Doesn't Make Much Sense To Anyone Except For Character B Who's The Only Person Who Inexplicably Gets Them And Can Translate Their Gibberish.
> 
> Enjoy!

this had been a problem since the start.

it wasn’t like paris didn’t know what to say. quite honestly, she had a _lot_ to say. and she was usually confident in being able to voice it. if she knew the answer to the question posed to her history class, then she was going to answer it. if madeline and louise’s mindless chatter about who was the cutest guy on the school’s track team was distracting her from reviewing her study sheets, then she was going to snap at them to pick up the topic later. if someone voiced a particularly stupid suggestion during student council, then she was going to say _how_ and _why_ something so moronic was not going to pass. 

so she always knew what to say for herself. turns out though, what she wanted to say and what she was  _suppose_ to say, where two wildly different things.

and unfortunately for paris, she never knew what she was  _suppose_ to say. 

it’d started when she was little, by the time she was granted a seat at the adults table for her parents ever-important dinners. perfectly tailored dress and trained etiquette of where to place her  utensils, the adults asked her how she  got on in school and what extra-circulars she did (not that they cared, it was just another way to gauge how socially ept the kid of this specific elite family was).

paris thought she was answering right. she thought they wanted to know what her favourite subjects where and the plot of this new book she’s reading and how incompetent her fellow fifth graders were. and she thought maybe they wouldn’t notice how fast her words were, how they slurred in nervousness from the stern adults eyes watching her, each word of the rant more  passionate then the last.

turns out that wasn’t what anyone wanted. what they’d wanted, her mother especially, was for her to smile at a perfect angle and speak with practiced clarity. and they wanted her to say  _yes, I do like school_ and  _english is my favourite subject_ and maybe  _I think I might like to_ _be class president_ _next year_ and nothing more. 

and paris remembers the odd looks. she remembers the hooked eye brows and side-eyes to her nervous and uncomfortable parents. and she especially remembers her mother’s sudden cold hand slapping around her wrist under the table, squeezing tight. not in reassurance but in a secret, unspoken threat to stop her word vomit  _immediately_ that paris thankfully decoded well enough unless she wanted a punishment, shutting her lips tight. and how could she forget, being banished from the table, sitting upstairs on her bed and glaring at her floor, trying to figure out what it was she said wrong – but understanding, with a twist of something awful in her gut, that she wasn’t suppose to do it again. 

she still wouldn’t ever figure it out. 

-

she was glad she didn’t have to pretend to say the right thing to rory gilmore. 

she’s learned how to pretend, at least, overtime. her parents have stopped offering her seats at the table, at totting her around to fellow elites, instead treating her like a ticking landmine, only seconds away from someone setting her the wrong way and that’ll start the outbursts of incorrect conversation topics and sharp opinions no-one asked to hear. they didn’t need that. but for the moments it can’t be helped, paris has rehearsed the correct things – simple, short words to give, just in case.

god forbid a woman have an opinion around here. or that she ever misspeak and cast upon  _great shame_ to her family. 

with rory however, paris could say exactly what she wanted. she  _wanted it_ known loud and clear, that she cared not at all for this new girl. she wanted rory cowering under her verbal cuts – that was the best way to cut her down afterall, to get her out of here and out of paris’s hair. therefore, paris could say exactly what she wanted to rory.

which is what she intended to do, when she saw rory standing outside their english class, ten minutes to the bell. madeline and louise were both out today so it was just her against the enemy. which is just fine, she doesn’t _need_ back up anyway – and to prove it, paris boldly stalked up beside rory, back straightened and gaze of perfectly calculated coldness.

“well I see you’re still clinging onto the thread barely keeping you here gilmore..”

rory’s head flicked up from her book, bright blues clashing into paris’s glare and doing this weird pull thing at her heart – making it both somehow drop in panic and jump in elation – that she assumes is just adrenaline from  making verbal rounds  with her rival. 

“paris.” rory smiles but her tone is dry at best, glancing back to her book “it’s almost as if the universe knew I was having too good of a morning..” 

“don’t flatter yourself; with the way things have been going for you and the grades you’ve been pulling, it’s clear I anticipated too much from you and that you’re simply a thorn in my side on my way to success. I’m just here to let you know that just because you were thrown a bone and allowed to stay, doesn’t mean things are going to get any easier or _I’m_ going to extend you the same gratitude.”

rory blinks back, absorbing that information but doesn’t make the crestfallen expression paris was holding out for “...so, you bothered to come all the way over to me, to tell me that message? because I’m insignificant to you?..” 

paris stalled, suddenly realizing her error. a second after hair on the back of her neck bristled and she grit her teeth together in attempt to press down her anger, glaring back at the furrow rory was giving her.

“...what the hell is with the cummings?!” she spat because she didn’t have a way to counteract rory’s claim, gesturing wildly at the beat-up book the brunette was holding “our poetry section isn’t for two more months, so if you’re trying to get a one-up on me I’ll let you know I’m already well-versed in _all_ the authors we’re looking at!” 

“um, no. it was more the fact that I’ve had this on hold at my library for a month, and it finally came in yesterday.” 

“well colour me surprised that your town library has more then dr. seus books and _how to read poetry for dummies.”_ paris huffed, glaring down at the pages “and seems a little pretentious to me..” 

“isn’t all poetry though?” rory raised a brow, lips starting to curl a bit at the corner “I mean, at best, shakespeare’s collections are just melodramatic. and, at the very least anyway, cummings does have beautiful verse..” 

“sure sure, _yours is the light by which my spirit’s born_ is very pretty on the eyes and whatnot, but there’s only so many poems and metaphors I want to read that’re about _springtime_ and for christ’s sake, cutting off your sentences and throwing in commas or brackets into them doesn’t equate you to a literary genius – not everyone can be hemmingway!!” 

now, noting the ridiculousness of somewhat modern day poets and their dramatics, paris hadn’t meant to indite any kind of reaction. she’d just been _saying._

then rory did something super weird. 

her eyebrows crinkled together and ocean eyes slit in  a way that could only be described as  _bemused_ and paris saw a laugh, a  _laugh,_ slip out between pink lips. not a loud one or anything, just an amused chuckle, totally honest and without any of that secret cruelty she’s seen used in laughs over her parents’ dinner parties. it totally throws her off and makes her bristle  again, showing sharp teeth as she snaps,

“what?!” 

“nothing..” rory shrugs off, looking back to her poetry “you’re just..you’re kinda funny sometimes..”

“no I’m not.” paris rebuttals. because she isn’t. she’s been _explicitly_ told that, just because she wouldn’t spare a laugh to a dumb joke probably stolen off a middle-schooler’s joke book. or because her classmates humour is barely passable to their actual age.

and what’s more, is that she doesn’t like rory lying to her like that. what game was she trying to pull anyway?

“why would you laugh like that??” 

rory flicks her eyes back to paris’s “um, because it was funny?..”

“no it wasn’t. I wasn’t even trying to tell a joke!”

“alright, well –”

“honestly what’re you trying to do here gilmore?!”

“nothing –”

“is this some bizarre intimidation tactic, being buddy-buddy with compliments to get me to lower my walls?! because I’ll tell you right now, it’s not going to work!”

rory’s hands fly up and she’s giving paris this incredulous look she can’t totally place.

“fine paris.” she surrenders “it wasn’t funny. I retract any amusement I found in what you said.”

but she’s still smiling. she’s smiling as she shuffles her books back into her bag, not looking at the blonde and hiding the curled lips. and paris has fire lingering on her tongue but she doesn’t know what words it’s supposed to make because rory’s smile creates this warmth in her chest – this fluttery softness she’s never had but necessarily doesn’t want to push away either. and the fact that she, somehow, was the cause of said smile made it flutter even harder.

so she sits there with a scrunched face and willing for something to hit back with, that it’s probably good that the door opened. medina was there, hollering for his students to come in. paris watches rory slip that gaudy yellow bag over, throw one more cautious but genuine _I’m-just-trying-to-be-nice-please-don’t-yell-at-me-for-smiling-at-you_ smiles at paris over her shoulders, and walk inside.

paris stands there for a second longer, annoyed and confused and suddenly all gooey on the inside, before clicking back in, grumbling as she stomps inside.

she wasn’t having any of this. and if rory gilmore thinks she can giggle sweetly into her good nature, then she has another thing coming. 

-

that plan didn’t work out so well, turns out.

in paris’s defense, it wasn’t like she  _let_ this happen. it just sort of...did. rory refused to back down no matter how many attempts to undermine her – the overall threats and cruel stares – paris made. she just would not back away – and even though that brought her great aggravation, part of her, a tiny one, was kind of impressed at that. turns out there was a lot more to goody-goody gilmore then would've thought; she was the one person paris had met in a long time who didn’t make blood trickle out her ears when she talked, who actually held interesting ideas and could match her book-wise.

maybe she wasn’t so awful after all.

now they were friends. sort of. there’s a lot of grey area here – but every time her doubts creep up behind her shoulder, her anxieties swirling around her stomach and rising until they slip out her throat,  _rory are we actually –,_ and rory cuts her off with an even and warm-in-that-teasing-but-sure way,  _yes paris, we’re friends._

paris wasn’t going to lower all her walls. not yet. no one, no matter how well they got along, was going to undermine her for the number one spot.

but still, it was nice to have someone to  _maybe_ call a friend. someone to chat with, someone to bounce essay ideas off of, someone in her life who was at least marginally interested in helping her create study notes – which is exactly what they were doing now, textbooks and binders and stray papers and rory’s sticky tabs she’s let her use, creating a sea over the gilmore’s kitchen table. 

paris, favourite highlighter in hand, was going over some  textbook  passages when rory perked up.

“hey, you said you had notes from medina’s lecture right? can I borrow them to make copies later?”

“can’t. I would love to have them, but I lent them to louise.”

“oh. well can’t you ask for them back?” 

“I _have_ been but louise says she can’t remember what she did with them because she’s turned into a melodramatic mess after trying to ask out ryan johnson and him still not giving her an answer yet, spending all her time mourning like a maiden in a seventeen century novel.” 

“..so we’re stuck. why can’t she just ask him about it again –”

“I asked her the same thing but according to _her_ that’ll make her look ‘desperate’ and she’s supposedly in the running for his attention with katy mcintyre, who’s been reportedly interested in him too, so she can’t take any chances.” 

“I see. does madeline maybe –”

“have them? who the hell knows, she’s become so invested in this too, telling louise to just drop these dreams, because half of the basketball team, which ryan’s on, aren’t even taking dates right now due to some bizarre, guy-pact they all made after gwen hollis brutely dumped their captain, in show of support.” 

paris pauses when she realizes what she’s been saying, bunched brow matching the weird look rory is giving her.

“...why do I know these things?!” 

“I was asking myself the same question.” rory replies, arching a brow “did madeline and louise put a feed into in your ear or something?” 

“oh god.” paris groans, falling back into the chipped wooden chair and hearing it creak “I knew hanging out with them long enough would come to this. next thing you know, I’ll be spouting off the newest _seventeen_ articles, if you can even _call_ them that, about who the next up-and-coming heartthrob is and trading lipsticks with madeline – oh, and of course that’s just what my mother wants!..” 

rory scoffs warmly, flipping over the next couple pages in her water-stained science text “don’t prejump yourself yet par..” 

“no, this is how it starts gilmore!” paris raves, ignoring that short-formed nickname that rory’s picked up recently and how she can’t decide if she should hate it or not “you start by spending your teenage years chasing after every passable boy and ignoring any sort of literature and school tests to read trashy magazines that don’t have a single interesting thing to say that’s not about make-up brands and how to dumb yourself down for a guy – and then boom! suddenly I can’t name a single book in my husbands library archives, I spend all my time gossiping with fellow elite trophy wives over who’s dress is for sure a knock-off, and hire garden boys to act like I need the front hedges trimmed but really I take them behind the gazebo for the kind of sex my useless husband won’t give me!” 

“oh my _god_ paris!..” rory’s giving her this incredulous glance over her papers, but – there, there it is. the bemused look and crinkled eyes and _laugh,_ slipped out between her smile. this keeps happening, whenever paris isn’t even _trying_ to say something funny, just giving her usual sharp honesty. she wants to be mad about rory’s reaction and well, most often she is; bristling and glaring at the grins she gets back because she can’t _read them._ she doesn’t understand them.

most people hate her honesty. they crinkle their nose and glower, calling her a  _bitch_ and mumbling other insults she’s sure, or they just look at her like they’d rather be anywhere else but talking to her. just because paris  _dares_ to say the truth, because she speaks what’s real, because she doesn’t  _know_ how to make her words seem pretty instead. it’s why her mom won’t let her around guests or her fellow elite wife friends anymore. it’s why she doesn’t have any friends.

and yet, rory laughs. and paris doesn’t get it.

but, somehow, this time she watches rory laugh and there’s a sudden scoff that escapes out of her. and a sudden curl around the corner of her lips. and that gooey warmth in her body at seeing rory smile and she being the cause of it. chuckling maybe because, yeah, that kind of life seems ridiculous to two girls far too smart to ever fall into that trap of a lifestyle.  so they could laugh about the insanity of it all. 

“what?!” paris challenges, still smiling quietly “prove me wrong about it – you _know_ it’s true.” 

“fine, maybe you’re right about that part of things – not that I’d know nor do I ever _want_ to know – but, you’re wrong about that for _yourself..”_

“I’m wrong about _myself?”_

“yeah.” rory glances over with this _duh, obviously_ look that she can somehow have without it being snotty “because you’re way too smart to ever become like that. and, honestly, no one could ever make you do something you didn’t wanna do paris..” 

paris sits there in the bask of rory’s smile, saying nothing. was that suppose to be a compliment? she wasn’t totally sure. she had to think, it probably was, because she’s still smiling a little.

“well, in my case,” she shuffles back in her seat, returning to her work “I’m glad I’m here then, rather then being off with those two ditzes..” 

she froze. did she  just..say what she thought she had?  _I’m glad I’m here._ oh god. oh no. she can’t say that sort of thing! rory can’t know she enjoyed hanging out with her! she whips her head over to the brunette, eyes wide  in fight  but claws at the ready to appear like she wasn’t frightened at all – and rory, she’s already looking at her. 

she holds paris’s eyes and out of nowhere, a hush fell over. the gentle, yellow glow of the well-loved kitchen lights up the pale cheeks so soft and lets paris see the quiet smile on rory’s face perfectly, where she speaks several decimals lower in a way paris doesn’t even think she meant to, 

“yeah, me too..” 

paris knows she should say something and of course, this is the one time she can’t think of anything. it’s a blessing then, that the door swings open, revealing a lively lorelai. 

“ladies!” she greats with an over-exaggerated furrow of her brow, hands on hips “I could hear the revelry from down the street – I won’t stand for any of this wild house partying! where are all the boys, hiding in the closet no doubt?” 

“actually they went out the window – less of a trace that way.”

“but we did shove all the alcohol under rory’s bed.”

“ha, rookie mistake! you gotta drain it all down the sink first.” lorelai grinned. she shut the door with her heel and walked over, clumsily throwing an arm around rory’s neck to place a wet kiss on her head, rory rolling her eyes but smiling all the same. paris felt a sudden pang over her heart, a pining for something she’ll never have. but then lorelai leaned over, giving a warm squeeze to her shoulder and that signature wry lorelai smile.

“paris, you’ve been a rotten influence on my daughter.”

“hey, it was rory’s idea to bring guys over; I was just fine with the underage drinking.” she can’t help smiling back at lorelai’s chuckle; that was something she was somehow drawn to about the older woman, this intrinsic energy lorelai had to make anyone feel welcome “but, I guess that’s a sign if any, for me to start making my way out..” 

it was starting to get late anyway; near dinner time, and it’d take her an hour to get back to hartford. she stands and starts gathering her papers and texts, lining them up to fit back in her bag. 

“what about dinner?” lorelai interjects. paris squints.

“what about it?..” 

“that’s mom’s way of asking if you wanna stay for dinner.” rory explains “so..can you stay?..” 

paris pauses. that hadn’t been part of the plan, when she’d ventured over here to do some studying. 

“r-really?..” 

“of course, we have quite the meal planned!” lorelai told her, gaze then flicking to the squint rory was giving her “...or we have the take-out number for the chinese place. you know, same thing.” 

paris mulls. she looks back to rory, blues shining up at paris expectantly, with what paris thinks, maybe, is a quiet hope that she’ll say yes. and then paris, holding what she thought were iron walls and a steel-like reserve, is saying,

“..I mean, it beats having to drive all the way home and trying to take that express way; now that they’ve opened it up for construction it’s a nightmare. honestly, who the hell even needs a fourth lane anyway – is that, and the future accidents it’ll cause which will require more road repair, _really_ what they’re putting our tax dollars to?!..” 

lorelai doesn’t quite say anything. paris notices the silence and could feel nerves start to close up her throat but then she looks back to rory when there’s a muffled chuckle and  _that_ smile and paris feels her insides go to mush again, watching her turn to her mom.

“..and that’s paris’s way of saying yes.”

“great. so glad you’re here to translate for the both of us kid.” 

paris was too.

-

rory knew what to say.

she had the pretty words and a smile that could give you cavities and an actual politeness that didn’t even need to be forced  out of her. she’d always been a people person, paris has known that for a long time. it’s why she got the happy looks of approval and paris got sneers or frowns. it didn’t  _always_ work out; in worser moments rory’s inherited anxious rambling from her mother will make an appearance, or she’ll flounder just like any regular person – but for the most part, she kept a lid on it much better then paris did. she’s not the one who has to write down cheat sheets of potential conversation starters for her  dates, after all.

paris had been trying to figure it out, untangle what it was that made rory’s patience boundless, and still couldn’t. just one of the many things that frustrate her about rory. like her effortless people skills. 

and how she somehow talked her into going to a mixer.

“god I hate mixers. or parties. or gatherings.”

“paris we’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“why did I let you talk me into coming here?!”

“hey, you were the one who wanted to get a real ‘college experience’, and this, a gathering for our dorm building, is a perfect way to jumpstart that. and I figured it’s a solid way to start meeting the people we’re going to have to continuously run into for at least a year.”

“I might’ve said I wanted an authentic experience, but I very much remember noting that I don’t want to be subject to freshmen hazing where we suddenly find ourselves locked outside our room or somehow covered in jello –”

“what kind of horror stories have you heard –”

“or be a witness to the subsequent dark-corner make-outs and beer pong that’s about to happen.”

“it’s a _mixer_ paris. save that stuff for the house parties.” 

paris groaned. she took a sip of the red solo cup from what was, frankly, awful punch that’d been provided,  sub-consciously leaning closer to rory as people passed by her, furrowing at them. the main room, or the ‘rec room’ as it was probably better known, was fairly packed, fellow freshmen mingling about and chatting to their new neighbours. it was pretty lax, with it’s offered snack table and low music coming from somewhere, but of course all paris felt was nervous.

“besides,” rory took a sip from her own cup now “you’re saying that like that guy over there hasn’t been staring at you for eight minutes out of the whole ten that we’ve been here.” 

“ _what?”_

paris spins with no grace at all to where rory’s looking, off by the ping pong table. he was amungst a couple other guys but she was able to pinpoint him; thick brown hair and nice build, wrapped in a jean jacket. probably noticing the sudden burn from their gazes, he looks up too, catching paris’s bulging eyes with a smile before rory quickly grabs her sleeve and spins her back around, back to him.

“smooth. for someone who’s so sharp, I don’t know how you kept missing that..” 

“he-he was probably looking at you..” paris stumbled, not sure how to process this.

“he wasn’t. he was looking at you; every time I kept catching him, while you were too busy panic-ranting to me about the punch potentially being spiked.” 

“no one ever looks at me.” and it’s true. no one was ever looking at her unless it’s with bewilderment or anger or annoyance or possibly all of them at once. and if anyone was ever actually _looking at her,_ so to speak, then it was because rory was with her. 

because rory was the kind of girl you look at. 

“people look at you paris, you’re very pretty and I wish I wouldn’t have to keep convincing you.” rory argues, paris ignoring the skip her heart made “either way, he was looking at you, and he still is. so we can try going over –”

“ _do not make me go over there.”_

“alright, well, we could wait, play the longhaul, ‘cause it looks like him and those other guys are setting up the table – nope, he’s coming over here, quick, act as normal as you can –”

“ _what?!_ he’s what – _gilmore –”_

“hey.” 

paris spun back for the third and final time, beside rory and now gawking up at the guy before them. he had an easy smile and warm brown eyes – and they were actually, in fact, directed at paris, only giving rory a polite glance of recognition. oh god. paris doesn’t know what she’s suppose to do here. she worries she’s gunna break into a sweat. 

“hi!” rory greets. 

“hi.” paris manages to squeak out.

“I’d, uh, ask if you guys were new here, but the whole ‘freshman mixer’ thing kind of cancels it out, so..” 

and just like that, paris is back to herself – leave it to allowing herself to be subjected to talking with stranger, to have her sharp fire dial right back up.

“lucky for you then, we can skip the particulars..” paris resisted rolling her eyes. he blinked back, clearly unsure of what to say. rory then cleared her throat.

“I’m rory. this is paris.” 

“johnny.” he answers, throwing another smile paris’s way “so, paris – as in france?..” 

this time, paris  _does_ roll her eyes, once again internally cursing her mother for giving her the kind of name that was perfect for her dream of paris attending future debutante balls and becoming a trophy wife (instead of her daughter’s actual dream of having a  _dr._ in front of it). and for also forcing her to withstand this horrible joke for the rest of her life.

“no, paris as in _sweden.”_ she snapped, not noticing rory ducking her head and squeezing her eyes shut “I mean, can you not think of a _more creative_ starter line then the one I’ve already heard all my life?!” 

his smile dropped, momentarily knocked down. paris figured that would probably be the end of that, because it usually is, but there was no preemptive celebration yet. a bashful smile comes over the slightly red face, and he nods quietly. 

“honestly, that’s fair, it was a lame line. and I of all people should know, considering how many people assume my last name is _bravo_ after I tell them my first.” he jokes seamlessly, getting a smile out of rory but only a curious eyebrow raise from paris “can you uh, give me a chance to redeem myself? you ladies interested in a game of ping pong?..” 

_try_ _again, because a table top game with your ‘bros’ is really not where you’d want to start any stimulating talk_ is seconds from leaving paris’s mouth and rory must’ve sensed this, because she leans in and grasps paris’s arm right as her lips part. 

“that would’ve been great, I wouldn’t mind a game,” she smiles perfectly up at him before flicking her gaze to paris “but unfortunately, you were gunna head out soon to go do that thing right?..” 

paris just furrows “what?” 

“that _thing,_ remember? you wanted to go pick up that text for your psychology class that’s you put on hold from the library? before it started tomorrow?” 

paris  _did_ want to do that but this story rory was stringing was missing some details, in that paris hadn’t planned to go pick up her textbook for at least two more days, because her class wasn’t tomorrow but starts at the end of the week and the holding period lasts a couple more days anyway. both things she remembers telling rory.

instead she just stands there staring blankly at rory who’s eyes are bulging slightly, willing for paris to grasp the lifeline she doesn’t have any way of seeing. but it didn’t seem to matter, because then  _he_ perked up, taking the bait that apparently everyone noticed except paris. 

“hey, that’s no problem. I actually, um, live near the library; that’s where my dorm’s at, and I was gunna head out of here soon enough anyway, so I could accompany if that’s alright?..” 

“great.” rory smiles back as paris’s face blanks, anxiety starting to swell as she realized what was going on and where her best friend was so innocently sending her off to “she’d like that.” 

“ _would_ she now?” paris spoke sharply, narrowed eyes towards rory. the brunette didn’t loose the polite cheer on her face though.

“yes.” rory spoke evenly though strongly, eyes directed right at paris even though it wasn’t her who needed the answer really, before glancing to him again to get sufficient proof for her claim and be sure “just, for the record, what’re you majoring in?..” 

“oh. law.” 

rory beams.

“she’s going to _really_ like it.”

“great. I um..” he smiled, switching his eyes back and forth between the two girls, unsure of who to answer to “I’ll go get my stuff, and we can make a library trip..” 

he flashed another easy smile at paris who suddenly felt her stomach sink through, walking off back to his buddies for his things – and there wasn’t even a second of a grace period before paris whirls to rory, hand  squeezing her arm and seething through her teeth.

“ _what the hell was that for –”_

“paris, relax –”

“I don’t need you to throw me a pity bone and orchestrate my dates for me gilmore! especially if you’re going to send me off with random strange men – this is how most female murder stories start out!” 

“oh my god paris, I promise I did not send you off with a secret murderer – and even if he were one, then I’m giving you full permission to haunt me from the afterlife. just go on the date with the cute, potential lawyer for gods sake! it’s going to be great!” 

“you don’t know that! instead you’ve just sent me off into the unknown, with no back-up – why can’t you come with me?!” 

“because he’s clearly not interested in going on a date with _me,_ he wants to go on a date with you!”

“but I don’t do dates, you know that! this whole instance proved I don’t even know how to have a normal conversation – small talk makes me nauseous and I didn’t even get to think up some potential topics and now I’ll just tongue-twist myself into either scaring him or insulting him so badly he never wants to see me again because god knows I don’t know how function normally or have any appealing qualities to overweight that and this is how I’ll end up an old unmarried hag –”

“ _par.”_

there’s warm fingers wrapped around her wrists, startling her back into reality. she blinks back to find baby blues shining at her, a tiny smile over pink lips, all showing that bemused adoration that paris often sees when she catches rory looking at her.

“you’re going to do _fine.”_ she says, gentle laughter lighting up her voice “you’re pretty, you’re funny, and you’re brilliant. he’s going to love you.” 

standing there, the hold of rory’s fingers carefully wrapped around and watching bright blue, it altogether wasn’t important to paris  whether he loved her or not. and it wasn’t so much about going on this date without rory there as back-up. it was about the one simple fact, paris realized, that she didn’t want to leave her. she didn’t want to go.

something heavy dropped in her stomach, sharp and quick. things slowed and muted realization dawned over her face, watching rory easily smile back at her in complete ignorance. she didn’t want to go because of rory. because she wanted to be with rory. it was all because of  _rory._ oh god.  _oh no._

paris doesn’t know what to do except stand there and panic, really wishing she could run away but she’s frozen as rory stands beside her shining perfectly and the noise around her muffles and she knows he’s going to be here any second and she could nearly be sick – 

“okay,” 

– and then the intrusion pulls her to the surface and there’s chatter in her ears again, spinning once more to find the cute, potential lawyer standing beside her, bag over his shoulder and another trying smile.

“ready?..” 

“y-yeah..” she stumbles, falling in place next to him. 

she wills herself to start walking out with him on shaking legs but before they’re gone she feels one last soft hand over her shoulder in an encouraging push, head whipping over her shoulder to see rory there with a steady grin, growing farther and farther away and paris swears she can see a string there. the end attached to rory and growing longer and longer as paris walks, unspooling from her chest until there was no string left and it tries to tug her back to the one person in her life who’s ever mattered –

but paris keeps walking.

-

this was bad. this was very bad.

besides being terrible at saying the right thing, paris was equally terrible at keeping the words in. she could never hold her tongue. it’s her family’s greatest shame, after all. they always fall out anyway, whether that’s through nerves or anger or whatever, she can’t keep it.

which means that having to hold the secret of being in love with your best from them, has created a literal nightmare.

she’s managed to keep it for about a month now, but she can feel herself staring to come apart at the seams. she obliged that guy for that date that one time, but when rory kept asking why paris wasn’t picking up his calls after and refusing to answer if she liked him or not, she had no choice but to snarl  _I just don’t want to gilmore what’s it to you?!_ it’s not like that’s largely different from how she responds and rory simply drops it because she knows when to pick her battles with paris, but still. the fact she had no solid way to explain why she didn’t want to go on a second date with him, why she doesn’t want to try maybe going out again  _since it seems you didn’t like him par_ – there was only so much deflection paris could do.

either before a. rory starts to wonder why, or b. she finally breaks and spills out her heart to the brunette. it looks like it was going to be the latter. 

because paris can already feel it. the weight pressing down over her head, the metaphorical pot that was starting to boil over and steam and whistle it’s cry – she could hardly tie it down anymore. because she so very much loves rory. it’s gross and gooey and paris has never felt like this about someone before, so  _presently,_ so much in a way she can’t ignore that it’s amazing she manged it this far.

but honestly, she dares anyone to spend more then just a  _day_ with rory and not fall in love with her. it’s impossible. she has this totally infuriating way of worming right into your heart with her gentle patience and wit and keen intellect and  soft beauty and endless kindness; it’s been happening to paris since high school.

and as it balloons and balloons, she knows she’s going to have to do something about it.

despite the little  help  she thinks it’s going to do, she practices what she wants to say. tries to uncoil and pick apart the mesh of feelings, the bleeding pile of mess, towards rory, until it makes at least a marginal amount of sense. and so she compiles them and picks a random day when both her and rory are home and unsuccessfully tried to squelch the fear that doing this will cause her to loose rory for forever, only to get up from her bed and find rory hovering there beside her.

“hey.” she seems even but if paris hadn’t been so nervous herself, she would’ve noticed it was offkilt “can I um, can I talk to you for a sec?” 

“can’t.” paris pauses, then takes in a breath that does nothing to steady her “‘cause I..I actually need to talk to you first..”

“oh. alright.”

rory, ever accommodating, steps back a tiny bit to give paris that metaphorical stage to speak her peace. paris takes in another deep breath and tries not to loose her nerve when she stares and stares into those endless blue eyes.

“okay. alright. I..I need to...” _c’mon geller, point by point, just like you practiced_ “..I’ve, been lying to you about something, for a while..” 

“oh.” rory’s face clouds but not so much in disappointment as confusion “about what?..” 

“it..it’s, well, not the easiest of subjects, but I..I just..” 

“‘cause I can’t lie to you par, I find it hard to believe you have any secrets..” 

that throws her, morphing her somber face into a scrunched up one “what?! why?!”

“because you can’t keep anything to yourself! no matter what you’re going through, I hear about it somehow.” 

“that’s not true!” 

“I’m pretty sure it is; due to how many times I’ve even _told you_ I don’t want to hear about stuff, and you tell me anyway. it’s just who you are. you’re like an overflowing faucet but instead of water it’s word-rants.” 

“stop looking so smug – I can have some secrets you know!” 

“one I haven’t already heard?” 

“ _oh my god you’re infuriating –_ well what about the fact that I’m in love with you gilmore?! how about that for a secret?!”

rory’s face falls. and then so does paris’s. oh god. that wasn’t at all how she wanted to say that. but there it was anyway, simply hanging in the air and making it so much heavier. paris knew rory wasn’t going to say anything and she also knew she had to try to explain this. 

“I’m sorry.” is the first thing she blurts out, the first thing she can’t help saying “I am. I love you. and I..just, god..this-this is _not_ how I wanted this to come out, you’ve totally thrown me off my plan!!..” 

“par –”

“no, _wait,_ I’m going to get this!..” paris held up a hand, refusing to back down now that her secret had been revealed “I wanted, I, this – it’s a new revelation, I’ve only been holding it from you for a month or so, so it’s not like I’ve been pining from your side all these years – though, frankly, this has probably been going on longer then I know, dating back to my inexplicable nervousness around you in chilton that infuriated me and I see was behind a lot of anger towards you, so, _fine,_ maybe this has been going on a while –”

“paris –”

“which is ridiculous because you _are_ so infuriating! christ I did everything in my power back then to drive you away and all you did was continuously fall into my path and stubbornly refuse to play my game by instead being patient and kind and sweet that I essentially had no _choice_ but to fall in love with you so when you think about it gilmore it’s really _your fault_ that we’re in this mess right now –”

“I –”

“and now _instead of_ telling you the exact speech I had prepared I’m standing here yelling about how frustrating you are because it’s so much easier then telling you how I love your sense of humour and the colour of your eyes and your quiet brilliance and your patience I don’t understand but am so grateful for but I _do_ I love these things and I love you and I hate how I sound like the most disgusting rom-com but you had to know and –...are-are you _laughing?!”_

and rory was. paris looks back with a gaping expression to the baby blues lit with amusement and wide smile and how rory had pressed her hands over her mouth to try and hide her laughter but it wasn’t working. she was laughing. in fact, she looked down right tickled with the whole thing, with paris spilling her heart out to her like it meant nothing. paris doesn’t think she’s seen red quicker. 

“ _are you kidding me?!_ what the hell are you trying to – you think this is _funny gilmore?!_ god, I can’t believe – you just – _fuck I –”_

she’s crying and that so did not need to happen. this whole thing shouldn’t have happened – because now she was standing here with her heart on a goddamn platter after stupidly thinking there’d be pay-off to being vulnerable, to taking a risk. instead, as she holds out her whole self to rory, she finds herself being  _laughed_ at and mocked and absolutely torn down that her throat has closed up and her vision is all wet and fuzzy. she couldn’t believe she’d been this stupid.

because really, what response was she hoping for? that rory, who hits the high road any time she senses an  _I love you_ coming her way, would brush it off by saying that was sweet even if she wasn’t interested? or that she would leap into paris’s arms instead? in a way, she couldn’t blame rory for laughing. at the idea of a  _them._ at paris who’s heart has sewed itself to rory’s. 

however, it didn’t mean she couldn’t be mad. that she couldn’t be angry and hurt and heartbroken and that this made rory’s response at all okay. 

“I-I’m sorry, I-I’m not laugh-laughing at you...” seeming to read her mind, rory tried to dissuade between her giggles, but the smile and the hand still pressing over her mouth didn’t convince paris at all “I swear par, I-I..–”

“oh well _I’m_ convinced!!” paris snaps, flames only roaring the more rory choked down her laughs “this is a real _low move_ for you gilmore but I’m _so glad_ you found my feelings so amusing and how I laid myself out for you just to stomp all over it and – _you know what,_ I, _that’s it_ , I have to get out of here!..”

paris spins around, not entirely sure what her plans are but she knows this room is starting to suffocate her and while rory’s laugh used to make her light in an unexplainable way, right now she couldn’t stand to hear a second more. she makes a  beeline for the door but then there’s a ‘wait!’

the tone  had seemingly shaken off the giggles and  was much more serious, but paris isn’t planning on letting it stop her. until there’s a hand on her arm pulling her back round with surprising strength. 

“I’m sorry, hang on, just –”

“let me _go –”_

“wait paris, you gotta hear me out –”

“no! I’m not interested in anything you have to say!!”

paris is now forced to look rory back square in the face and she’s giving her her best glare but somehow rory is  _still fucking smiling._

“but you didn’t even hear what I was originally going to tell you earlier.” 

“ _what the hell does that have to do with –”_

and that was the moment paris learned what nearly blacking out felt like as rory pressed her lips over her own.

paris could’ve worried herself into several spirals over how this was going to go – but this surprises her. because rory’s lips were gentle and they were soft and although that fluttery warm feeling she’d get in her stomach is now tenfold it’s just so..good. when she can get a hold of herself, unfreeze and carefully starts to kiss rory back, she’s shocked by now nice and how right and how  _easy_ it was. rory fit right into her; fell right in place with her, like she’d been doing since the damn near start, no matter paris’s attempts to push her away. 

this time though,  paris’s fingers curl around her waist and vow to never let go.

but rory makes that choice herself, gently pulling back. there’s a couple seconds of silence because nobody really knows what to do, startled and half-lidded gazes locked onto each other’s, but rory’s starting to give her this certain look and paris’s wits – only slowed because of rory gently suckling on her bottom lip earlier which caused a temporary short-circut, she’ll have it known – slowly catch up. 

“oh..” she gasps and then finally they link up to what was said earlier and then her eyes go wide _“oh.”_

“yeah..” rory laughs shakily, red tinting her cheeks and paris hates how cute it is “..I mean, I _did_ have some stuff I wanted to say, but I guess that was the _gist_ of it so –”

but paris thinks that, now they’re both on the same page anyway, she doesn’t want to go another second not kissing rory gilmore after years of being desperately in love with her and so places her lips over the pink ones, swallowing her words with a slight grin of payback and then feeling another grin pressed against her as rory kisses her back.

and this is the one time, paris thinks, she doesn’t mind not talking instead.

-

sometimes it wasn’t that rory knew what to say, but that she refused to say anything else. or to be more specific, she wouldn’t say what was on her mind.

whereas paris only knew how to speak her mind.

they’re at the gilmore’s – the seniors that is, emily and richard. paris had been invited along to a fancy dinner party, given the invitation of _plus one_ even though she’s sure rory’s grandparents would’ve preferred a male companion. they hadn’t told them; paris knew rory wasn’t ready to have that conversation with the two of them yet, and for once, she wasn’t going to push her. it’s probably for the better because due to the upper elite grapevine, if they told emily and richard it’d only take time for it to reach paris’s parents, and she did _not_ want to have to deal with that yet.

she warned rory that, of course, cocktail parties where the key theme was to stand around making forced niceties at strangers were far down her skills list, but here she was anyway. she seemed to have made a good impression on emily and richard anyway; emily had the same sharp tongue and wits as the gilmore women do so paris could easily spar in conversation with her to leave a good impression, and she found she enjoyed richard’s thoughts, nuanced and level, on modern journalism and the stories reported on nowadays. she’d always liked him, ever since chilton, and she liked watching him and rory interact, this same ‘quiet soul’ bond that connected them. 

so it wasn’t the grandparents that were the issue. it was the after-drinks-parlor-mingling, that was the issue.

paris had lost track of rory. there were too many people in here and she hated that, shoulders bumping into hers and swearing she could feel wine-infused warm breaths down her neck from the minimal space. god she hates people. can’t they go already? rory promised they didn’t have to stay the  _whole_ night. 

she eventually found her in the living room amung the other patrons, off to the side with a guy about their age. jealousy immediately made her bristle, hair on the back of her neck standing up, but a closer look into the situation made her see maybe that wasn’t the issue. it was more that he was talking and rory, well, rory was doing that thing. that thing that she does. that rory gilmore thing when she’s talking to someone and she wants nothing more then to  leave  but is too kind and polite for her own good, so instead she’s making nice head-bobs and smiles but her lips are pressed together and the usual cheer in the blues has changed to an  _oh god_ dread.

because she won’t say what’s on her mind. 

meaning paris has to go save her. 

paris marches over there – she’d say ‘sneaking through’ but her ‘sneaking through’ was really grunting past people as their shoulders bumped so she could make a path through – all while hearing pieces floating over like  _being one of the top five names on the honour roll_ and  _with my gpa, I could’ve gone anywhere, but a proper education shouldn’t be skimped and princeton’s is top notch,_ until she finally reached them, interrupting the guy’s boast of a monologue with a hand to the small of rory’s back. 

“hey.” 

“hey!” rory lit up, this time with an internal _oh thank god_ that only paris could read “there you are – um, jake, this is my friend paris..”

he looks awful. there might as well have been a  _douchebag_ written over his forehead. polo and nicely styled hair and, god, paris know this kind of entitled jerk. he looked like he might as well have just walked off the brochure guide for princeton. 

“nice to meet you.” he smiled at perfect angle with teeth that probably had a regular whitening schedule, paris merely grunting back “glad you could join; lucky for you, you caught us right as I was about to _regale_ the story of how I won the final score on my lacrosse team – I play for princeton, that is – to..um..”

he’d forgotten. he’d fucking forgotten rory’s name. red starts to bleed in the corner of paris’s vision because her girlfriend with frustratingly angel-like patience had been standing her  _listening_ to this asshole who couldn’t exit out of his two-inch peripheral to remember her, but who, of course, presses back on that seamless smile for him. 

“rory.” 

“rory, of course – so, as I’d been saying..–”

the plan  _had_ been to save rory. it hadn’t been for her to speak her mind and verbally degrade – but that’s what happened.

“are you serious?! you can’t even remember her name?! the last droplets of scotch swimming around in your glass indicate you’ve been standing here for at least half an hour and you don’t even know her _name?!”_ that polished, slightly smug smile slips right off his face but paris is already too busy broiling in her rage to notice.

“here’s a tip; there isn’t a woman within a state-wide radius who _isn’t_ your mother who wants to hear about every painstaking goal you got doing the _most emasculating_ sport known to man, or about the honour rolls that daddy’s money probably got you on because let’s be honest, if you had even a sliver of the smarts you claim to have you’d be able to at least bother to note a woman’s name to get in her good books instead of forgetting it and letting it be known how far your entitlement has shoved your head up your ass – _but I guess there’s only so much a ‘top notch’ education can get you.”_

she could’ve kept going but there’s this sudden spurt of noise and stifled coughing. paris turns her head to see rory’s curled lips pressed to the rim of her champagne glass, barely holding it in long enough to swallow the rest of her drink through her laughter. then there’s sputtering in front of her, making her spin back to the male ego she’s just shattered; he’s furrowed and confused and much resembling a toddler who got his favourite toy ripped away, making guttural noises as he tries to come up with a reply. and paris has several sharp quips in the back of throat at the ready if he can actually get it together long enough to try, but then there’s a warm hand around her wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” rory smiles with a smile that _appears_ kind but is holding just the smidgen of amusement only paris can see, and holds up a finger “can you just give us a minute?..” 

and then paris is being whisked away. rory leads her out the room and through a couple halls, until they’re finally far away enough to duck into an unused coat closet. then she’s standing amungst dusty hanging clothes and rory’s right in front of her, pressed together due to the small space. 

“par..–”

“don’t start with me rory! don’t pretend you were at all enjoying yourself in that conversation and weren’t looking for someone to come offer you an out!” she was so busy being mad and throwing up her hands she didn’t see that rory hadn’t dropped her smile “god, _christ,_ how the hell do men like that keep showing up; it’s like a goddamn _plague_ I tell you!”

“I didn’t initiate anything; you should probably know that was the son of the mccaster’s, who’re best friends with my grandparents. I was, in fact, minding my own business on the side when my grandmother essentially ambushed me by bringing him over to introduce – I’m sure, with _no_ ulterior motives..” 

“oh of course, it never stops!”

“and now there’s no way they’re probably _not_ going to hear from his parents about how their granddaughter’s friend verbally assaulted their son and it’ll be one of the last times, they’re sure, they’ll be attending a gilmore soiree.” 

“are you trying to make me feel guilty?! because it won’t work! it’s always women, of course, who’re treated like _the great family shame_ for daring to say anything that doesn’t come along with a smile, but men can be as moronic as possible and yet _we_ have to treat their egos like they’re made of eggshells – well I won’t do it gilmore, hell to what my mother would think or anyone else for _daring_ to chew out that guy who was regarding you no higher then his father’s secretary he probably makes crude remarks to –”

there’s fingers under her chin to make her hold still and warm pink lips over hers. altogether, paris melts, tasting the signature vanilla chapstick and familiar softness, kissing back as hands find their way to rory’s waist. a few seconds longer, and then rory pulls away, still smiling, and paris, newly confused and furrowing. 

“..thank you.” her voice had become much quieter, blue eyes shining up at paris under lashes “..I..I don’t know how..to do that, how to say anything like that, or even not feel guilty enough to pretend to come up with a fake excuse to leave..” 

“well, that’s what happens when you’ve got a heart too big for your own good gilmore..” 

“or thin skin. I just need to not be a pushover..” 

“you’re not a pushover.”

“weren’t you paying attention? you were right; that guy was a total..ass, and I just let him keep going! I couldn’t even _pretend_ like I had to step away to go find you or something because I didn’t wanna seem rude or upset my grandma!” 

“you’re a people pleaser, something I’ll never understand because you’ll never get anywhere that way, but you’re not a pushover.” 

“what makes you so confident?” 

“what? like I haven’t known you since you were sixteen gilmore?” paris challenged, watching rory’s brow jump up and smile curl “because a pushover wouldn’t have stood over my desk and _dared_ me to verbally swing back at her, after all the threats I’d made. _huh_ _quippy? why so silent?”_

paris watched rory bite into her grin, head bowing down bashfully. she couldn’t help her smile either, quickly leaning in to cross the five inch space and peck her cheek.

“..alright.” rory admitted, fingers gripping around the nice v-neck sweater paris was wearing “..I guess this is the best way, too, because when my grandma inevitably finds me to chew me out over what happened, I can just say that was on you..” 

“oh so what?! I’m your scapegoat now?!” 

“I’ll say this is why I can’t take you anywhere..” rory beams, cheeky yet sweet, clasping their hands together “..but also, clearly, why I always need you with me..” 

paris wanted to be annoyed at having to take the fall here for rory’s grandparents – she was trying to stay in their good graces for god’s sake – but she supposed it made sense  as she was the one who started the verbal assault, so instead she falters into a smile because isn’t it true, perhaps, how her and rory fill in each other’s gaps. how it’d always been like that. 

and that’s why, probably, she lets rory pull her into another kiss and lets it go longer then the one before. lets her fingers curl around her girlfriend’s small waist and lets her tongue slide over rory’s bottom lip so she can feel her shiver underneath – and then, finally, having her pull back. 

“it just..sucks, having to keep it under wraps..” rory breaths out heavy, back to fiddling with paris’s hem “and not just because of all the set-ups I’m getting forced into..” 

“hmm..” paris hummed, only half paying attention to the conversation, fingers sliding up to the collar of rory’s blouse, tugging back “well, I believe there should still be a mark here from this morning, or I can add another right now and that’ll make it very much known –”

“ _hilarious.”_ rory gave her a gentle nudge off, fighting down her smile “right now, I don’t think that’s _really_ our best foot forward..” 

paris smirked back, taking secret joy in the red bloom over rory’s cheeks, and the occasional poke she does at the brunette’s shy nature. she could keep going but lets rory’s hand slip over hers, the other turning the gold painted door-handle.

“c’mon; dessert should be soon, and I promise the black forest cake is worth dying for.” 

“and _then_ we can finally leave, right?” 

-

paris never knew how to pick her topics. 

depending on the subject that is. in school, she always had it together; she contributed interesting points during class discussion and for the most times it felt like  _she_ was the only one offering valuable direction in group projects. this was in part because paris knew this lay of the land, understood it’s structures and what she should be offering. 

but, again, outside of school was where she flopped. 

it was always the wrong thing to say. or it was inappropriate even if it was truthful. or it was just downright frightening according to her peers and/or councilors,  _whatever._ and when she was younger,  even when  she did her  damnedest to  _try_ and make her conversations the right ones, her remarks or add-ons to the discussion a little more appeasing and a little less blunt, it’d always fall apart. so by this time, paris has stopped trying to pick the right one, as long as it wasn’t going to land her in genuine trouble.

this time, paris thought she was headed in the right direction, because it seemed like the ideal time to bring it up.

almost a year of dating, her and rory had become pretty comfortable around each other. going from friends to relationship has both it’s pros and cons, and one con is that there’s a whole different level of awkwardness when you want to make things physical. and it’s even worse when you’re dealing with rory gilmore paris found, who’d rather peel off her own skin then admit to having a sexuality. thankfully, her own trait of just bulldozing through something until she gets the results she wanted worked in their favour – and when she  _had_ her results of rory underneath her pink in the cheeks and panting with her own two fingers slick up to the knuckle, she could call it a success.

which led to events like this, with her sans clothes sitting on the bed and rory who’s also sans clothes, in her lap with hips rutting and tongue practically down her throat. it’s then, with her hands cupping under pale thighs and rory’s pulling over her bra clasp, that she figures with what’s happening now’s the ideal time to untangle their lips and say –

“should we get a stap-on?” 

rory stops. like altogether stops. she blinks back at paris and paris simply stares back in complete non-chalance, the only thought to if rory was blushing or not because her cheeks were already plenty red beforehand. 

“...although I really don’t want you to repeat what you just said, I think I’m going to have to ask.”

“I’m just saying. it’s been this long since our first time already, and we haven’t even broached the subject of toys.” 

“yeah, I wonder why _that_ is..” 

“well I’m sure it has _nothing_ to do with the fact that you have the same feelings towards sex as perhaps a nun might. or atleast a blushing schoolgirl.” 

“that’s not –” paris declared it to definitely be a blush as rory’s face got ferociously redder and she angrily bit into her lip “it’s just..you know, we’ve been doing I think pretty well without, I guess I didn’t see a reason to bring it up..” 

“mhm, nice cover-up gilmore. also if we’re going by that analogy, a can of beans is _technically_ a meal but I doubt you’ll find a person who wants that for dinner _every_ time.” 

“is that what you’re _really_ going to relate our...” she couldn’t even say it, instead vapidly switching her hands back and forth between the two of them “to?..is it really that terrible?”

“you can’t even _say_ it! and I’m not trying to say I’m dissatisfied gilmore, in fact far from it, as I think you’re the best I’ve had, and that goes for all regards of the relationship. but you understand what I’m getting at; if you stepped out of your shell for a fraction of inch, we could dress this up a bit more to make it even better.”

“I’m not _that_ much of a prude..”

“really?” paris leaned back slightly to be at a better eyelevel with rory “then how would you feel if I got one? if I wore one?..” 

“well, th-that, um..that would be...fine..” 

“just fine?..” 

“well I’ve never seen or used one, so how am I suppose to know?”

“I mean you’ve had sex with a _man_ before gilmore, that should give you _some_ idea. I’m just asking you to use your goddamn imagination here – do you think you’d like it if I wore one for you –”

“ _yes.”_ rory snips through closed teeth.

“ _good,_ at least we’re getting somewhere. now they’re different types and styles to consider..”

“I-I dunno..” rory shuffled up in paris’s lap, hips skimming again and eyeing where she was tracing a pale finger over her stomach “can’t we just get like, a normal one, you know, and call it a day..–”

“you’d _think_ we could but the sex toy industry is a booming business, and we have to aware of different types less we walk away with the wrong one.” 

“always the planner..” clearly done with this topic, rory leans in for another pressing and somewhat sloppy kiss, but paris wasn’t done so she pulls her lips away to continue.

“I’d suggest doing some research beforehand – a lot of these stores have moved online you know, so we can take a look at various styles and sizes and whatnot..–”

“mmhm..” rory murmurs, starting to kiss along paris’s jaw since her lips were still moving, the blonde not noticing the hand sliding up her stomach.

“– which is better then subjecting you to look at which toy you want me to use on you in the eye I suppose –”

rory makes some kind of noise in response rather then reply, working her mouth down paris’s neck who willingly, nonchalantly, tilted it to give her girlfriend better access.

“but at the same time I think – gilmore are you _listening?”_

rory said something between ‘sure’ and ‘yeah’ but it was muffled by the kisses she pressed along the lean neck, fingers finally finding success when they curled around the buckle that was in the middle of paris’s bra, fumbling to get the clasp undone –

“but I _think_ that that might offer too wide of a variety and overwhelm both myself and you who’s already shyer then a doormouse, in what we already don’t know, so I suggest we narrow what we individually want and have each other write down what we’d like and then compare on size and girth and possibly vibration –”

“oh my god _paris!”_

rory’s head fell back, hands slowly,  aggravatingly, dragging down her face. paris furrowed; she knew by this reaction what she’d said was the wrong thing, but failed, again, to see which misstep it was that took her awry. she knows it couldn’t have been the suggestion to write things down. rory loves nothing more then to make lists.

“what??” 

“I-I’m just, I..” rory tilts forward again, paris noting the wide eyes and incredulous half-smile “I’ve literally, like, got my mouth on your neck and fingers trying to undo your bra and yet _now_ is when you wanna talk about this?!” 

paris blinked back, brow deepening. _that’s_ what she’s upset about?!

“well of course _now_ is when I want to talk about this! what other possible time should we talk about this rory?! you want this to be a breakfast conversation?!” 

“that’s not –”

“I thought you’d _prefer_ I bring this up now, less you accuse me of springing it up on you when we’re trying to do something else like washing dishes or what have you – but you tell _me_ gilmore, when would you like it?! you wanna have a whole dinner conversation on it?! would you prefer I ask you about dildo types when we finally eat those sausages in the fridge or what?!” 

paris couldn’t believe this. the  _one_ time she tries to make the right conversation step and her girlfriend gets mad at her. she expected to get lambasted by a red-faced rory some more, but instead she said nothing. rather paris watched her eyes squeeze shut and that bemused smile grow and then shoulders started to shake a little –  _laughter,_ holding it in. seeing this, paris dialed back her flames ever so slightly. 

“what?..” 

“nothing it’s just..” rory opened her eyes now, unable to keep from grinning as she met paris’s browns “..you-you are _so_ weird..”

that was the last thing paris was expecting. she blinked back a little, oddly affronted. 

“ _I’m_ weird?! have you even met the woman who raised you?! don’t act as if any of that hasn’t rubbed off on you either!” 

“relax par, it’s not a competition –”

“it isn’t?! then would you like to talk about the absurd amount of times I catch you mouthing along to t.v show reruns? or the bizarre way you have to organize the grocery list in a way even _I_ find anal?! or the need to celebrate _fictional_ people’s birthday’s like that’s a totally normal thing all fans of a book do or – _oh..”_

there was a pale hand between her legs and two fingers paris felt  _pressing_ and she found herself half-lidded and glaring up to the rather cheeky grin rory was giving her. 

“..that’s a low trick..” 

“it’s the fastest way to get you to stop talking..” rory said in a voice that was, by paris’s standards, _mockingly_ chipper, sweetly tilting her head and smiling. 

paris grunts. she grasps rory’s hips and tugs her close enough so that their lips had only roughly two inches between, chest to chest and waist to waist.

“you’re _slipping_ gilmore, having to resort to gimmicks like this to best me – what happened to my fierce rival who only needed a handful of sharp-tongued words to render me momentarily speechless?..”

“she hasn’t gone _anywhere,_ but,”

rory finally gets her other hand around the bra clasp and  succinctly tugs so it snaps open and the fabric falls away from paris’s chest – all with that usual sweet rory gilmore smile and apple-red cheeks.

“I don’t think my tongue needs to speak _words_ persay, to render you speechless...” 

paris exhales shakily, not able to help the lips curling at the side of her mouth. this was a rare,  _rare_ version of rory, one she didn’t get to see often, but that paris very much enjoyed seeing when she appeared. so she gripped harder onto rory’s waist enough to have her nails bite into the pale skin and lips pressing feather-light over pink ones to growl,

“ _prove it to me_ gilmore.” 

then she felt herself being pushed back into the bed and while a part of paris, still that stubborn school-girl self, would never admit to her once-rival being right, it wasn’t like a couple hours later she found herself admitting rory was  _wrong_ either..

-

rory will sometimes joke about it; randomly, during the casual conversation or at dinner over their plates or in the car when rory interlocks her pinky with paris’s as her gaze stays steadfast on the road. but it’s usually always after another infamous rant, another slurring of words, another thing that she’s on (and on and on and on) about today and  _why doesn’t anyone else see it_ and  _gilmore are you even listening?!_ the blue eyes glint and lift over the table’s length or the edge of her papers she’s studying and there’s that faithful smile –  _I have not the pleasure of understanding you._

austen, of course. cheesy.

and whenever she does it, paris is instantly reminded of something lorelai said. it was after a day spent in that bizarre tourist trap rory calls a hometown, where they’d been having lunch at the diner, and rory had gone off to the car but before they could return to the house paris had to run back for the sweater she forgot. she slips in unnoticed only to find yet another bantering back-and-forth between luke and lorelai hidden in the kitchen – except her and rory were the subject.

paris pretends to fear nothing but if there’s anything that makes her anxious, it’s being gossiped about. however there was nothing to fear this time; the remarks were positive, how well they fit together, and paris will never forget when lorelai  says to luke,

_here’s the_ _deal – it’s_ _like, paris only speaks this very specific dialect that’s not even spoken in the most remote of places; no one can ever really get what exactly the kid is on about. but rory is somehow the only person out of seven billion people in the whole world, who understands it._

paris never told rory about that. but when rory makes the joke one more time, peering over her the edge of her laptop as she sits on the bed while paris stands before it and they’re winding down for the night, a harmless smile and  _I have not the pleasure of understanding you,_ paris defies it. 

“no.” she says, trying to speak through the sudden lump in her throat “I think you’re the only person who understands.”

rory doesn’t say anything after that. neither does paris. they both  simply hold  silently sill with something unspoken making the air tighter, rory quietly observing paris and paris noticing the sting around her eyes. and maybe no one said anything  _because_ of the magnitude, because of what it meant, because of how paris’s chest felt heavy. instead, the moment stood at a pause.

then, rory shuffles over in bed. she puts a hand over the empty space  and blue  eyes, full of softness and patience and gentleness that was always for paris,  hold the hardened and vulnerable browns. 

“..wanna come sit with me? I can tell you about my new article I’m writing..”

they only thing paris can do it nod. she kneels down onto the mattress and scouts till she’s sitting right beside her girlfriend, shoulder to shoulder and feeling rory’s bare leg pressed against her pj-clad one. and then, rory’s fingers fumbling and curling around paris’s hand that’s squished in between their bodies as she starts to explain her piece.

and altogether, paris is understood.

-

“ _gilmore.”_

“what?” 

“what do you mean _what?”_

“I mean, what do you want paris?” 

“you know what I want – I’m not going to say it again!” 

“well, unfortunately for you, I’m not a mind reader so –”

“christ’s sake rory, go to bed!” 

“I’m almost done!”

“half an hour ago you said you were almost done!” 

“it’s just two more pages, I can’t stop now!”

“why?!” 

“because the chapter isn’t done and you of all people know you can’t just stop right in the middle of a chapter – especially because the main character has just been reunited with her childhood sweetheart so _now_ I don’t know if – hey!”

rory lunges overtop paris, yanking back the book her wife had snatched out  of her hands. paris groaned, sitting up in the bed now and clicking on her bedside light, dragging her hands over her face. 

“rude. that was a very playground bully move, you should know.” 

“well since _you_ won’t put it down yourself I had to resort to drastic measures.” 

“now what, you’re gunna give me a wet-willy?” 

paris peered a death glare between her fingers over to rory. the brunette looked a little shy at least, gaze ducking down but her tone was still that tight-nit stubborn paris knew as she drew her book up again.

“I don’t know what the big deal is; I _told you_ I could use my little clip-on book light but you said that the big lamp is fine, plus you have a sleep mask!” 

“that’s a travel mask! for when it can’t be helped that there’s external light – and I refuse to wear a sleepmask in my own house, where the problem isn’t that I’m on an aircraft but that my wife doesn’t know when to put the book down! it’s like the world’s most boring addiction!”

“oh good, school-ground taunts are classic.” 

paris threw another glare and this time rory finally did cave, a look of guilt coming over, biting into her lip and giving those ‘bambi eyes’ paris knew so well that were trying to seem apologetic.

“okay, I’m sorry, really,” she reaches over, squeezing paris’s wrist “I swear, I’m nearly done; only two pages and you know I’m a fast reader, it’ll be over in a blink!..” 

“I have no doubts about that rory, I just don’t understand why it has to be _now,_ when it’s twelve a.m and we both have jobs to go to in the morning.”

“well I can go downstairs if you like, that way you can get some sleep and –”

“ _no,_ god, that’s not the point..” paris groans, dragging her hands down her face again “I just, I mean, _I_ like a good book too gilmore, but no matter how well something is written doesn’t deter me from making sure I get a normal amount of eight hour sleep so I can remain competent by the morning –”

“I know you’re more likely to sprout wings and fly the break from your routine par, but that’s because you haven’t read _this_ book.”

“firstly, you say that like I don’t find you on a semi-regular basis downstairs in the dead of night reading some new book after finding the bed noticeably empty and thereby throwing me into a fit of panic –”

“are you talking about that time you thought I’d left you because I put my rings on the dresser to get them cleaned? or that time you thought I’d somehow been kidnapped because the bedroom window was open despite you being in the same room?”

“we’re not talking about me right now gilmore, we’re talking about you! and that I constantly find you either sneaking away or in your office reading chair telling me you _forgot_ to call the plumber for the third time because you were so caught up reading, and _now_ you’re tying to pass off this problem like it’s this book in particular!” 

“okay but par you haven’t even _read_ this one yet! the author is incredible and once you start reading it you can’t stop – see, the premise is really simple but it’s actually way more then is seems, it’s about...” 

and then she’s off, that’s it. paris can’t get in a word edgewise and she doesn’t even try, head propped up on hand and watching rory. watch her eyes light up and her words fly out fast and  passionate and her voice peak when describing the sudden plot-twist but  _without too many spoilers because I’m still going to get you to read this afterwards._ she keeps going and suddenly it becomes less important to paris that it’s the middle of the night and that she’s somehow going to have to get up at six in the morning without the sleep for it – because she’s watching the woman she loves ramble on about her favourite thing in the world and she’s so  _ridiculous._

and like that, paris is smiling. a quiet laugh slips out and she tries to bite into her grin, shaking her head, but rory catches it and it’s just enough to slow her roll. 

“what?..” she raises a brow, squinting with a smile “why are you looking at me like that?..” 

because paris loves her. because she’s so full of love for her. because honestly, she should’ve seen this coming when she asked rory gilmore to marry her. because she’s still never met anyone else besides herself with this strong a love of books, if not stronger. because she could complain about this trait of her wife’s until the cow’s come home, but everyone, including paris, knows she wouldn’t have it any other way. 

but it’s late so she doesn’t say any of this. instead, she leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of rory’s pink lips. 

“nothing..” she murmurs, shuffling so she could lay back a bit “if that’s how you feel about it gilmore, keep going..”

rory furrows at the blonde, not entirely sure what to do with that. she flicks her gaze to the book as paris clicks off her lamp, then back to her, seeming a little nervous but still with a bit of excitement. 

“want me to maybe..read a bit of the last pages aloud?..that might give you a bit of a sense of the book..” 

she honestly expected paris to say no; to make a quip about not being a preschooler who needs a guiding reading session, and to flop over on her side of the bed to sleep. rather she’s met with surprise when paris looks up to meet her favourite blue and smiles just a little bit. 

“okay..” 

and that’s how paris ended up falling asleep. resting her head on rory’s shoulder and nestled into her side, she peacefully nods off listening to rory’s gentle voice narrate the book that’s inevitably going to get shoved in her hands later and thinking of every time rory has listened to  _her_ being ridiculous and that, given where they were now, it’s only made her love paris more.

which is the last conscious thought paris had before falling adrift as her wife’s voice filled her head. 

that she only loves rory more.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know this drill - if you at all liked it, kudos/comments are much loved (and not to be all guilt tripp-y but I've been having, as the kids like to say, A Time, so if you enjoyed this I'd love to hear about it!). I have another piece that I was working on that I'm hoping to post - I've been writing it for literally Ever and it's MASSIVE, as in probably going to be a two-parter, so if I can dust off the last touches that's ideally when you'll see me next!
> 
> Take care of yourself out there!


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